


Yule

by StarHost



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Fluff, Gen, dorky roleplaying, i guess there could be muck if you squint, motorsanta ss, raymanthia and stuff, squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarHost/pseuds/StarHost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raymanthian Christmas is jeopardized when a grand theft sweeps the land. It's up to Lord Vanquisher and his loyal knights of the realm to save it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yule

**Author's Note:**

> toot toot it's baby's first motorcity fic. This was written for Grey for the motorcity secret santa on tumblr. I'm happy with the fact that I was actually able to write it, considering I haven't done fics in a really long time. 
> 
>  
> 
> Writing MC is hard yo

There was no snow in Detroit. At least, not in the undergrowth.

Motorcity, lying in the underbelly of Deluxe, was self-contained, warm from the thrum of wires and discarded machinery and fast cars. It hardly saw sunlight, never mind changes in seasons, and though it was large enough to have its own small weather systems (sometimes there would be light rain, a coagulation of discarded heat that rose to the top, droplets growing until they were too heavy to glide through the stale air), there was never snow.

In fact, December in Old Detroit was only slightly cooler than the other months of the year, northern air sinking through the openings in building docks on the surface. Downdrafts were common, and though it was slight, the phenomenon was noticed and eventually attributed to the holiday season.

Christmas was always warm, dry, and anything but white.

Things were a little different, however, where the kingdom of Raymanthia was concerned. Filled with terrain that varied immensely from place to place the fantasy land rang true with bubbling brooks, peaceful valleys and jagged mountains that towered well past the low hanging clouds. It could be considered a place of dreams, a land where there was rain and wind and sun, and - deep within the midst of winter - a little snow.

A crunch of shoes on ground broke the silence of the afternoon, lights shining down on the land as dulled sun. Hunter-green followed the movement of the body it enveloped, cloth swooshing slightly to the rhythm of steps. The cloaked figure entered onto the dirt and dust, standing with an air that oozed of royalty. A pale hand stopped before a hooded face, and the body cleared its throat.

“My fellow kinsmen, and people of Raymanthia,” The figure spoke, bold in voice and high in pitch, turning towards a gathered group of bodies not far from where he was positioned. “The time has come for us to take arms against evil once more, to rise up and defend our realm from those who wish to take it!”

The cloaked man brought his hands into the air in a commanding gesture, worn runners peeking through a gap in his attire. “I speak of a wayward menace, who dares disrupt the ancient traditions of the realm in this season of chill and ice, a being who wishes to topple the sacred tidings of joy and cheer in our Raymanthian Yuletide!”

A tension filled the space between bodies, mix of excitement and determination as their leader prepared them for the taste of battle. A girl with the markings of a warrior stepped forward, brown hair braided for convenience, sword swaying in its sheath against her hip. She spoke in a manner of procedure, smiling as her words flowed into the air.

“Lord Vanquisher,” She began, addressing the cloaked body by his proper title. “Who do you speak of that has betrayed the land in such a manner? Who is responsible for this deed?”

A low murmur pulsed through the gathering, curiosity piqued as the three-plus-four crowd exchanged glances. Ruby The Darkslayer, who had spoken but moments before, stood proud, her smile of menace and adrenaline. Thurman The Magnificent stood to her left, The Oracle to her right, all cloaked in seasonal modifications of their usual attire. A chain of plastic holly hung from Ruby’s neck, a red sash in place of her usual belt. The rest of the group dressed in a similar fashion, a Raymanthian tradition since before the regulars could recall.

Lord Vanquisher waited for the opportune moment to reply, the patterning of a rather ghastly christmas sweater peering through the gap in his heavy cloak. Upon closer inspection, various ornament-inspired pins adorned the cloak’s front, depicting a variety of wreaths and stockings and wintertime treats. He wore a serious expression under his hood, a contrast to the rest of his features.

“The Bardonians appear to have teamed up with another group, one that has emerged from across the land in the past weeks and has grown in power since. We know the Bardonians.” He scanned the small crowd for confirmation, taking in the nods from Thurman and a couple of their ‘honourary’ members. With the time of year and the nature of the season, Mike and the other Burners had happily agreed to take part in this week’s fight to hold the crown, especially after Lord Vanquisher, er, Chuck, had explained the holiday traditions of the realm. Mike gave him a smile of the eyes, and Chuck felt his lips curling upward in return.

“But we don’t know the powers this new team may posses. They could be heavily armed, or excel in summoning. As protectors of the realm we must trek with caution.” Lord Vanquisher removed his hood then, speech now open to input from the rest of his party. His blond bangs covered his eyes as effectively as his cloak had, head turning towards the sound of a sudden comment.

“Lord Chuck, what exactly did these guys do?” It was Mike who posed the question, a tilt to his head and shrug in his torso, voice curious yet commanding in a natural air of leadership. He hadn’t quite mastered the titles and names of the LARPing world, but he tried, and that’s what counted.

Chuck bit his lip, building sentences in his head before voicing them. “They’ve stolen one of the most important things to Raymanthian Yule. Every year each citizen of the realm is required to contribute a gift to a communal pile, and on Christmas day the ruling party distributes them at random.” He moved his hands along with his words, still bold in poise but emanating a mixture of both Lord Vanquisher, King of Raymanthia, and Chuck, the Burner. “There’s a big celebration and everything. It’s been tradition since before I was ruler.”

Ruby confirmed the information with a nod, adding in a dire tone, “This quest may certainly end in a battle to the death. Only the bravest knights would stand a chance against the Bardonian tactics. Although,” She passed her gaze to both Mike and Chuck for a brief moment. “With both Lord Vanquisher _and_ the Smiling Dragon on our side, victory is surely ours.”

A small cheer of affirmation passed between the group, an almost impatience building at the prospect of an adventure. Texas, fidgeting beside Julie, raised a fist into the air with a cheer.

“So what, are we gonna just stand here and blabber on or are we gonna punch some bad guys? Let’s get a move on!” He swung his arms around in a dramatic fashion, christmas tree scarf and fuzzy green earmuffs clinging to his person. He took a few hurried steps forward, as if to run all the way to the battlefield, but stopped abruptly.

“Where did you say we were going again?”

Chuck smiled a little, eyes crinkling up behind his hair and he pointed in the opposite direction.

“I’ve received some news that the Bardonians were last seen around the central square. They may not be there anymore but it’s a place to start.”

With Texas eagerly in the lead the party set forth with enthusiasm, the jingle of Christmas bells and cheerful chatter echoing through the air. Julie and Dutch stayed to the front, keeping a close eye on their fellow Burner to make sure he didn’t start any unnecessary trouble, and Chuck found himself lagging at the back of the energetic caravan. Hands poking out of his cloak he adjusted the sleeves of his sweater, the white and red material having bunched upwards on his arms.

He gave a gentle sigh, a sound not especially melancholic, and looked up as he felt a body suddenly walking next to him.

“Hey Chuckles - er, Lord Chuckles. What’s up?” Mike wore an apologetic expression at his minor blunder, as well as a thick red-and-green knit, adorned with lopsided candy canes and snowflakes, and an attempted depiction of the bobble headed dog on Mutt’s dash in the middle. He still wore his half-jacket overtop, but the sleeves were tight from the thick fabric and they squeaked a little as he bent his arms.

Chuck peered at him from behind his bangs, offering a shrug as they walked. “Did I do okay? I mean I know I can’t talk as well as you can but - “  
Chilton cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? I don’t think I could even stand in front of a group like this and _begin_ to pump them up as much as you did. Just look at everyone.” He gestured around to the buzz in the air, smiles and weapons donned all round. “You did great.”

Chuck couldn’t help but smile, beaming with a hint of shyness. “Thanks Mikey.” He brushed the blonde from his eyes for a moment, clearing his throat for the second time that day.

“You know, this quest is pretty dangerous, even for a Vanquisher. The Bardonians are worthy foe.” There’s a glimmer of blue, and Mike was met with a rare show of nerves, Chuck’s eyes adding to his expression in an entirely vulnerable fashion. He chewed on his lip a little, contemplating as to whether this was all a good idea in the first place, choosing the rest of his words in time with his cautious steps.

“And if we dont make it back...” Mike put a gentle hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze, and there was nothing more to be said about that. In an inhale Lord Vanquisher had returned to the field, confidence boost eminent to his features.

The group stopped walking, and with the Smiling Dragon by his side, Lord Vanquisher made his way to the front. His chest puffed up as he stood, the group of ne’er-do-wells they’d been searching for standing before them. They gazed at the party in a challenging manner, hands on their weapons so to strike quickly if need be.

The King of the realm spoke. “By the laws and traditions of the Kingdom of Raymanthia, I charge you with theft of Yuletide cheer, and give you this ultimatum. You may either return what you’ve taken, or fight against me and my army of warriors for the crown.”

The mismatched group waited at the ready for a response, Ruby drumming her fingers against the handle of her mighty blade. Lord Vanquisher stood with serious face, prepared for the worst.

The opposing team, of course, declared war to be had, and in an instant players were charging from either end, plastic weaponry held high in declaration of spirit. The battle was on, the clunking of props and screams of invisible wounds filling the stale air.

It took Mike everything he had to keep from laughing as he too rushed into the fray.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've noticed any errors or anything, please let me know! 
> 
> I picture Chuck in his lord Vanquisher christmas get up looking a lot like a christmas tree.


End file.
